DOUBLE DARE by Jeanne St. James

Blurb:


What could be better than waking up next to a hot guy? Waking up sandwiched between two of them.

Quinn Preston, a financial analyst, is not happy when her friends dare her to pick up a handsome stranger at a wedding reception. What better reason to give up men when her previous long-term relationship had not only been lackluster in the bedroom but he had cheated.

Logan Reed, a successful business owner, can’t believe that he’s attracted to the woman in the ugly, Pepto-Bismol colored bridesmaid dress. And to boot, she’s more than tipsy. After turning down her invitation for a one-night stand, he finds her in the parking lot too impaired to drive. He rescues her and takes her home. His home.

The next morning Quinn’s conservative life turns on its ear when Logan introduces her to pleasures she never even considered before. And to make things more complicated, Logan already has a lover…

Tyson White, ex-pro football player, is completely in love with Logan. He has mixed emotions when Logan brings home Quinn. But the dares keep coming and things heat up with the three of them. Nevertheless Ty wonders: will adding Quinn to the mix end up enhancing or destroying Logan’s and his relationship?

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme & content, male/male sexual practices, ménage (m/m/f).

BUY LINK:

EXCERPT:
Quinn Preston almost choked on her Alabama slammer when her friend elbowed her in the ribs. "Ooof."
She saved her drink before it could spill all over her ugly bridesmaid dress. Yeah, that would have been a shame: to ruin such a nice, frumpy, pukey pink taffeta dress. One the bride had said she would be able to wear in the future. Like to a cocktail party. Or maybe her own funeral. Yeah, right. No one in their right mind would want to get caught dead in this thing.

Ruining the dress wouldn't have been a loss, but losing her drink would have. She was drinking slammers for a reason -- to get good and drunk.

Lana nudged her again. "You see that?" She nodded her head toward the back of the room.

"What?" Quinn really didn't care what Lana was excited about. She just wanted to get this day over with.

She was tired of watching the happy couple. She was tired of pasting on a plastic smile for the photographer. And she was really tired of listening to the sappy congratulations. All things she might never have -- the wedding, the husband, the bridal bliss. And something her parents never failed to remind her. Especially now that she was in her early thirties. And single. Again.

"Not what. Who."

"Huh?" She sucked on the dainty little straw the bartender had put in her drink. Hardly anything would come out of it. Maybe it was designed just for stirring. She pulled it out and threw it onto the bar. She really needed one of those big giant straws that came in those fancy frozen drinks.

"Him. Over there." Lana grabbed Quinn by the shoulders and turned her around to face whatever had caught her friend's attention.

"Oh, him." She took a deep draw of the punchlike drink, only there wasn't a bit of punch in it. Not the fruit kind anyway.

"Yeah, him." Lana dragged out him like she was sucking on a maraschino cherry and enjoying the sweetness on her tongue.

Quinn didn't even take a good look. Men were on her shit list at the moment. She didn't care how hot they were. The potent drink in her hands was all the company she needed. She smiled into her glass; it was the best date she'd had in a while.

Another pink taffeta blur whizzed up to them, out of breath.

"Jeez Louise. Did you see that hunk of man meat?" Paula, another victim of the wedding fashion nightmare, was flushed and had a bead of sweat running down her chipmunk-like cheeks. "Do you think he's single?"

Quinn raised one shoulder in a half shrug and turned back to the bar. It was bad enough when the three of them had to stand next to each other at the altar, then throughout the grueling pictures, followed by having to sit beside each other at the head table. All in that awful pink froth. But now that it was all over, and they had done their duty for their friend Gina, there was no reason they all had to stand there looking like someone threw up Pepto-Bismol.

She leaned into the bar and asked the semicute bartender the time. When he answered that it was six, she gritted her teeth. They had only been at the reception for an hour. It was way too early to bail.

Damn.

With a sigh, she turned back to her friends. They were still ogling the male eye candy across the room.

Paula's sigh drifted over her. "I wonder if he likes women with a little meat on their bones."

A little meat? She opened her mouth to correct Paula, but shut it quickly. Her friend didn't need to be on the receiving end of her miserable mood.

"Quinn, I bet he'd make you forget Peanut."

Quinn winced and took another long draw from her drink. She loved the flavor and the tanginess on her tongue. And she was trying to forget Peanut. She hated the nickname her friends had called her ex-boyfriend, Peter. Once they had actually called him Peanut in front of his face -- by accident, of course. Right. It had taken her a while to brush that one under the rug. He had never liked her friends after that.
On the other hand, her friends had never liked Peter from the beginning. Unlike her parents, who loved the bastard. Probably more than they loved her.

"Yeah, Quinn, he could probably fuck your brains out, and you'd never remember that douche again."

Quinn frowned at Paula. She noticed her friend's string of pearls hiding in the skin around her neck. Quinn's hands automatically want to her neck to finger a similar necklace -- a part of the stupid wedding costume.

Ugh. She hated pearls!

She hated taffeta. She hated pink. She hated frilly dresses.

She took a long swig from her glass.

And she hated Peter. The asshole.

His gift to her last Valentine's Day wasn't an engagement ring. Oh no, after five long, wasted years of dating the shit, he couldn't have gotten her a ring. Nope. Instead he sent her a text message.

That was it.

A stupid little text message. One line.

We've grown apart and I've found someone new.

She deserved more than that. Something better. After all those years of loyalty, standing by his side, being the "good, proper" girlfriend. As Peter had expected. As her parents had expected. The girlfriend any decent man would want on his arm. Right?

Not even a sorry. Not even an explanation. Nothing.

And the next day, FedEx had delivered a box with all the things she had left over at his apartment during the last half decade.

Quinn emptied her glass and turned back to the bar, blocking out her friends' chattering over that man.

She needed another man like she needed a hole in the head.

She slid her glass over the bar top, and before she could ask for another, a deep voice washed over her.

"Put her next drink on me."

Dumb ass. The drinks are on the house. She turned to ream whoever it was, and stopped. Her mouth opened, but nothing escaped.

"You look like a fish out of water with your mouth hanging open like that." When he smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkled. He was tan, an outdoorsy tan, not a manmade one. And he had beautiful green eyes. Shit.

She had never seen such beautiful eyes on a man. His nose was a little crooked, like it had been broken, and it made him even more beautiful. No. Not beautiful. He was. He was.

Quinn closed her mouth and swallowed hard. He was so unperfect, he was perfect. His hair was a dark brown with natural highlights, more proof he liked being outdoors. It was long and pulled back into a neat ponytail.

She hated long hair on men. But it was right on him.

He had a beard that wasn't a beard. It was like a longer five-o'clock shadow.

She hated facial hair.

He had a strong, corded neck that disappeared into a stiff dress shirt. The collar had been already released and one more button undone below that. The knot of his tie was loose and hung crookedly from around his neck.

The sleeves of his crispy white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and his forearms were tan covered in dark hair. His hands.

Oh. Damn.

His hands were large. They were working hands. They weren't soft and pampered. But calloused and thick and strong.

Capable. Capable of doing all kinds of things.

Quinn's nipples hardened under the scratchy taffeta.

His hands could do all kinds of dirty, nasty things.

Things Peter had never wanted to do.

Quinn ripped her gaze from him and spun back around to the bar, bracing herself against it for a second to catch her breath. She grabbed her fresh drink and took a gulp.

"Whoa. Slow down there."

She pressed the cold drink against her forehead in an attempt to cool herself off.

She needed to go change her panties, she was so freaking wet.

She could feel his heat next to her; his body was like a furnace. She wanted to plant her hands on his chest and feel how hot he really was. Her fingers convulsed around her glass.

"Are you okay?" The deep timbre of his voice sent a shot of lightning down her body, landing right in her pussy.

Quinn could only nod her answer.

He palmed her bare shoulder and turned her to him. He stared down into her eyes, his lips widening into a smile.

His lips. Oh man. Those lips probably could do all sorts of things to her, with her. Lips that were made for more than kissing.

"Yes." Oh my God, she thought. That was the kind of yes she blurted when she was in the midst of an orgasm. At least from what she could remember. It had been so long since she'd come.with a partner, anyway.

She felt the heat crawl up her neck, and she stepped back, breaking the contact.

"I.I'm fine." She cleared her throat. "Thank you for the drink." She took another sip before raising the glass to him in thanks.

"It was nothing." When he laughed, her knees almost buckled. "Enjoy it."

He stepped away and then paused. But it looked as though he thought better of whatever he was contemplating, and he continued on his way.

Quinn leaned back against the bar and let out a shaky breath.

She was suddenly flanked on either side by her friends. She had been so distracted, she hadn't even realized that they disappeared.

"Quinn --"

"Quinn!"

"Oh. My. God!"

"I told you he was hot!"

"Oh! I wish I weren't married already."

"I wish he liked chubby chicks."

Quinn couldn't take any more. She raised her palms in surrender. "Stop. Enough."

"But, Quinn --"

"But nothing," Quinn answered Paula.

"You're just going to let him walk away?"

"Paula, he isn't going anywhere. Unfortunately I'm not going anywhere. We have to be here for two more hours, at least."

Lana said, "Are you going to let Peter ruin the rest of your life? All men aren't assholes like him."

Quinn harrumphed and took another sip of her slammer.

"Why don't you at least dance with him?"

"No."

"Why not?" Lana asked.

Why not? Because if she did, she might come right on the dance floor? Because she might end up in a puddle of her own juices? The picture in her head shocked her: it was of her lying in a heap in the middle of the dance floor in the throes of an orgasm. Surrounded by all the wedding guests.

This drink was stronger than she thought.

"Because no one is dancing yet."

"Sure they are. Look."

Quinn glanced over at the area cleared for dancing, and sure enough, a crowd of people were out there shaking their groove thing. Quinn had been too busy trying to get her drink on to notice.

From the looks of the participants on the dance floor, a few of them had been partaking in the open bar also. Even the bride and her new husband were bouncing and shimmying in the crowd.

At least they were a happy couple.

Quinn took another drink.

Lana frowned at her. "Are you just going to drink tonight, or are you going to do something about your situation?"

"Situation? What situation?"

"Getting laid."

Quinn checked over her shoulder to see if the bartender was listening. He was. He had a big grin plastered on his face. Great.

The father of the bride came up and asked for a gin and tonic. While he was waiting, he turned to them. "Hi, girls. Enjoying yourselves? You look great in those dresses. My wife picked them out."

Oh joy. Quinn would have to remember to smack -- she meant thank -- her. She couldn't wait to rip the scratchy, ugly piece of shit off.

All three women gave him a smile but bit their tongues. Eventually he wandered away, and Lana and Paula jumped right back to harassing her. Good thing they were her friends.

"C'mon. It's not going to hurt to have a one-night stand. Look at him."

"I already saw him." Holy moley, she knew they meant well, but they were getting on her last nerve.

"Yeah, and we saw how you were drooling too."

She had not drooled. Her hand automatically went up to her mouth.

Paula said, "He probably isn't interested in you anyway."

"Yeah, you couldn't get someone like that. You attract losers like Peter," Lana said.

If they thought their reverse psychology was going to work, well, it wasn't.

"Looks like he's with Paige Reed, anyway."

Quinn's gaze shot over to the corner of the ballroom where the tall man stood next to the petite, dark-haired beauty. Paige Reed. Figures.

"I thought Paige was dating Connor Morgan," Quinn mumbled.

She must have mumbled loud enough, because Lana answered her. "She is. Connor had to fly to Australia for something to do with his job."

"So why is she with him?" Quinn asked. Why was she so curious all of a sudden? Why did she care?

She didn't. She nursed her drink. After one and a half Alabama slammers, she was starting to feel pretty tipsy. She wasn't used to drinking. And when she did drink, she usually had wine, not hard liquor, and especially not such a hard-hitting mix of liquors.

Paula leaned into the both of them and said in an exaggerated whisper, "Maybe he's an escort," like it was a scandal, and then laughed.

Maybe he was an escort.

He was probably worth every penny too.

His back was to them now, but that just gave Quinn the opportunity to study how broad those shoulders were in his dress shirt. When he moved, the fabric bunched and pulled with his muscles.

Lana gasped, jerking Quinn out of her thoughts. "He's not an escort! That's Logan Reed, Paige's brother. I haven't seen him since we were kids. Holy shit, did he grow up."

"I'll say." Paula agreed. "Quinn, I dare you to go ask him to dance."

"Not interested."

Lana joined in. "Yeah, I dare you too. Don't be a wuss."

If she were a wuss, she wouldn't have come out in public in this pink atrocity. And the matching shoes were killing her feet. The last thing she needed was to be dancing. She'd be crippled.

"That's a double dare, you know, with the two of us daring you.."

Oh, boy, a double dare. She would definitely do it now -- not. "You're crazy."

"No, you are, if you pass up this opportunity. "

"How do you know he's available?" Quinn asked them.

"You don't know until you ask him," Lana said. "But if I remember correctly, his wife left him a while ago.

There had been some rumors."

There had been some rumors about her and Peter too, but rumors were just that: rumors. She didn't take any stock in them.

Paula suddenly shouted, "Truth or dare?" making Quinn jump. It was like they were teenagers all over again.

Lana quickly said, "Truth." And bounced on her toes like she was fifteen.

Jesus, would someone please put a bullet in my head? Quinn needed to be put out of her misery.

Paula asked Lana, "Do you shave or wax?"

"Shave. Okay, Quinn, your turn. Truth or dare?"

Quinn was not playing this juvenile game. It was stupid; she was not going to fall into what was clearly a trap.

"Truth."

"How bad was Peter in bed?" Lana asked.

Damn. She wasn't going to answer that one. Even as drunk as she was. She didn't want to relive their vanilla, boring lovemaking. And she definitely didn't want to admit it or talk about it.

There was only one thing left for her to do.

ALL GROWN UP

That's Trent. If you read HOT TIN ROOF you met him so you know he was a pain in the ass young jaguar. Now it's his turn. He runs into a cougar who teaches him how to be a man, and boy, he learns fast!

COUGAR BY THE TAIL at Changeling Press: Buy Link

This big cat bites…and he won’t let go!

BLURB:
Trent Dallion was screwed. Much older than him, the wily little cougar had him by the balls—and he couldn’t get loose. She’d thanked him for killing her brother. Did she mean it? Or was she playing a game of cat and mouse, waiting for revenge.

Peri Montana tasted her destiny in the blood of the jaguar who took her diseased brother’s life. Mountain born and bred, she wanted nothing to do with the desert cat that possessed more vampyre abilities than she was comfortable with. Could she return to the hot desert nights without literally losing her tail?

EXCERPT:
     Wading waist-deep into the pool, she sat on a natural seat cut out by the water, and taking a deep breath, she lay back. Blissfully, her eyelids drooped and the minerals began to do their job as tiny waves lapped at her breasts.
     She sent a silent prayer up for her younger sibling, hoping he was at peace. He’d chosen his own path. She had adjusted to the fact that he wouldn’t survive long. The life of a transgressor was gruesome and he wouldn’t have been happy living that way. Thank you, Trent.
     “I’d do anything for you.”
     Peri practically jumped out of her skin as her eyes snapped open. What the fuck! How the hell had he snuck up on her?
     “Come on, you didn’t think I’d let you get away. Baby, you left a trail that smelled like heaven.” The man stood stark naked at the edge of the pool, gazing at her. “Plus, you belong to me. Like it or not.”
     “Go to hell,” she snarled and slipped further into the water. “Jesus, give me some privacy.” Shit, he’d found her far too easily. Glad she’d fed from Zader this morning, Peri locked her mind as tight as she could and mentally scrambled to assess her situation.
     Her senses had told her the minute she tasted him they were mates, but Peri wasn’t ready for that. She’d hoped by some long shot she was wrong because no way could she be mated to a jungle cub. He was not just any compound furball, but a Sovereign warrior -- Trent was Reign.
     Lord, he looked good though. The warrior was over six feet tall and his engorged cock bobbed in front of him like a joystick. Hell, he was just a boy. Bingo! She hadn’t lived this long for nothing. He was young, and Peri could use that to her advantage.
     “Slide over, I’m coming in.”
     “You are not!”
     “Peri, right? Get used to this, honey. It’s all yours.”
     Tell me he didn’t just wiggle his dick at me?
     He splashed into the pool like a mongrel dog and sat down across from her with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Yup, all yours.”
     “And who says I want it?”
     “Don’t you? Anyway, I’m not sure either of us has a choice.”
     She had to play this right. Heck, have a little fun with the youngster, then send him scampering back home. She hadn’t been fucked really well in a long time. Youth had its place.
     She stretched her leg across the pool, then gently nudged between his legs and flicked his balls with her toenails. “Maybe.” His nuts were hotter than the pool. Her legs squeezed together, tried to stem the flow of cream that slid from her body. “Come here.”
     He ducked under the water and came up beside her. His long, striped hair dripped on her shoulder until he slung it to get some of the moisture out.
     “Hey,” she yelled. “That was such a doglike thing to do.”
     Trent’s emerald eyes resembled thunderclouds, and that’s the last thing she saw before his lips descended on hers.

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out.-© J. Hali Steele

iPad of the Future, A Return to Sanity and 'Mortals' Excerpt Part 2

Finally the To Do List is dwindling down to less than insanity and I managed to get some rest. Whew! So now I'm not running around like a crazy person from place to place. It's strange how the world changes while you're away. Suddenly Apple has a new tablet/reader (and some folks are wondering if it will make e-readers obsolete), RWA is changing their qualifying market list and Bloomsbury keeps being insensitively ignorant without learning their lesson the first time around. Oy!

Meanwhile, I'm getting some work done, throwing more things on the fire and getting back to my creative brain. It's strange how you never know what goes into books and the industry until you're knee deep in it. I wrote a post earlier about how I, like most readers, just saw the end result of books ending up stores. I never knew how they got there. But even as we speak, distribution is changing and that quick, satisfying feeling ordering a book in minutes has become a bit of an addiction. I've tested the Kindle publishing end myself and am really enjoying the process of bringing some of my works directly to readers. Of course, that's another end result process. I'm still working the indie level with creating my covers, have beta readers and editors help me clean up the manuscript, formatting, copy editing, etc. everything but it's always awesome to hear from a reader who won of my books and/or who's bought them, read it and enjoyed it. I can't wait to see how the Apple tablet and the next gen readers make the industry change, hopefully for the better.

I want to toss something out to readers, so I'd like to do a giveaway along with posting this week's excerpt of Within the Shadows of Mortals. Leave a comment here about how you buy your books (whether ordering them online, at e-stores, at the good ole traditional bricks and mortar, etc) and I'll pick a random person who will win their choice of a book from my backlists. If anyone gets a chance to try out the new iPad come on back and let us know what you think of it!

On to the excerpt after the jump!

This way, there be dragons...

In the summer of last year, I touched on self-confidence on this blog and how I struggled with the lack of self-confidence in my writing life. That was back in June of ’09. Now it’s January of 2010. Have six months made a difference?

…that’s okay, I’ll wait while you ponder the vast question…

The answer is, no, not really, but that’s going to change, as God is my witness (for those of you Scarlett O’Hara fans)

So, you’d think that since this is the Paranormal Romantics blog that I’ve chosen to talk about dragons in the paranormal sense. You’re wrong—well, not really. I am writing a dragon book and that’s part of the problem.

Think figuratively, friends. Dragons, in this instance, mean the trials and tribulations that trip us up as we go about our daily lives and chase our dreams.

Distractions.

They can come in many forms, some the obvious of technology, spouses, pets, kids, the day job, whatever. I’ll bet if you really sat down, you could come up with a far longer list than I did.

Being a writer is a solitary existence, and by nature, I think it needs to be in order for said writer to concentrate on all the other people who crowd through our brains. Perhaps two centuries ago, we could easily be considered mad, as we frequently talk to the residents of our minds, ask them to lay bare their souls for us so that we might write about them.

I think writing is like a balancing act. We must gently craft out a plot backbone then skillfully add in characters, tone, emotions, motivation, back story and many other components without falling off the track and getting lost.

However, these things happen. They did to me this week. My novella came to a screeching halt. I was lost, trapped in the dark without a light, afraid, alone, annoyed. So I switched gears and wrote the opening chapter of my dragon book. Went down in flames, leaving the stink of failure behind to hang heavy in the air.

My self-confidence fled to a warm, dark place, away from prying eyes. My old insidious companions Doubt and Panic crept back in to fill the void. I committed the biggest sin a writer can make: I doubted myself and my ability. I chose to believe the evil little voice inside that tells me all the time I’m a hack, I can’t cut it in this business, that I’ll never amount to anything.

I don’t know why this occurs with me because deep down, I know I’m a great writer. Some of the pieces I’ve written are unforgettable, deeply emotional gems.

But you know how it feels, right? You can’t shake that feeling. The one that yells you’ll never be good enough, you’ll never break the edge.

Don’t go there. I warned you there’d be dragons, and this is where they reside, waiting, snaking out their forked tongues in case I stumble so they can snap me up.

I seem to blow off course with the least ill wind and it’s annoying.

Luckily, there was an “intervention” of sorts from my wonderful husband and a good friend, who slapped some verbal sense into me, made me reiterate a confirmation that I could indeed to this calling that has chased me since childhood.

And so, once again, I believe. I’m ready to tackle my taunting dragons and fix the novella, make it better, and write the book the way I know I can.

Now, if only I could make that damn backbone stick permanently. I have no hankering to become an appetizer for dragon-kind any time soon—well, unless he was really convincing…

The moral of this story, kids? If you give up on yourself, so will everyone else. They'll turn their attention faster than lovers in a Hollywood drama. Your faith in your confidence may feel as if it were built on shifting sand, but you gotta dig deep, hold fast to those trusted ones around you and plunge through the fire. It won’t kill you and it will make you a stronger person.

As for me, I’m still working on it. Luckily, I’m perfectly capable of handling my own sword.

Why Do We Need Romance?

Sunday night the Saints won (Geaux Saints) and I finished my novel. All 90 thousand words of it. It’s the longest book I’ve written in two years. I was filled with elation. Huge elation, tremendous happiness and relief. Then Monday morning I started editing it.
Its not that the writing wasn’t good. It was. It was just that it wasn’t necessarily as I remembered it. Things I’d thought she’d said, she didn’t quite say, things I thought he did, he didn’t quite do.
So I’m still writing…a lot. And that’s why I don’t have much of a blog today.
I do, however, have a question and I know how you all love my questions.

Why do you read romance?
I read it for the Happy Ever After, even in the Paranormal.


Why do you read it?

Meet the Nosferatu Brothers

Happy Manic Monday. We’ll start the week with a few announcements. The Paranormal Romantics are hitting the chat loops. This Saturday you can find us at Talking Two Lips review. Come join the fun! Also if you want to enter a contest to win a copy of The Omegas go over to Dark Diva reviews. I’ve announced the winner of The Omegas release party at my blog.

A big pot of virtual coffee is brewing. I had a crazy sleepless weekend and not for any reasons a dirty mind could think of, too bad, but for having to work overtime. This gave me some alone time with the Nosferatu Brothers on Saturday night.

They reside in my head and make appearances in my vampire stories and finally agreed to allow me to record an interview with them.

Tane: We’re not brothers as defined by human definition but belonging to the same clan makes us…family.

Annie: So, you care for one another?

Dragos: No.

Daedalus: Yes.

Tane: Sometimes. What family doesn’t have issues? *crosses arms and glares at Dragos*

Annie: Welcome to Paranormal Romantics, where love can meet the unexplained. Can you describe a little about what makes your clan different from other vampire clans?

Tane: Love is only a hormonal response.

Daedalus: You’re only saying that because you haven’t fallen in love in centuries.

Tane: More like millennia.

Annie: Can someone answer the question instead?

Dragos: We’re gods in comparison to modern vampires. Their existence stems from ours. We rule, they obey.

Annie: Really? You’re always an inspiration for more stories Dragos. *jots mental note for future reference*. What about your physical features?

Tane: Why focus on that? What about the power?

Daedalus: Bald is the new sexy. *winks at Annie, who blushes and gets dizzy*.

Dragos: *gags* “Keep it in your pants, brother.”

Annie: Okay then, Tane. What about your powers?

Tane: *glares at Dragos* They’re far from god-like but out clan gave up most of our humanity in comparison to the other vampire clans. It makes us appear less like men but the strongest monsters.

Dragos: I’ve had enough of this. *storms from blog*

Annie: *stands* Wait. What’s his problem?

Daedalus: He hates being reminded of what he’s lost. *follows Dragos but not before pinching Annie’s tush*

Annie: Hey! Call me?

Tane: It best you don’t remember this, Annie. *passes a hand over her face and leaves*

Annie: I’m sorry folks. I guess they’re not going to show up tonight. They promised though. *sigh*

Rip Cord by Jeanne St. James

RIP CORD is getting great reviews AND was up to #3 on the All Romance Ebooks Top Ten Bestseller list! And is a #1 bestseller at Phaze for December!


From Seriously Reviewed:

"Well, I sat down to read and burned dinner! I couldn’t stop reading. The story is fast. Gil attends his high school reunion. And we all remember how enjoyable that is…not. But with a hot jock like Rip, at least he’ll have someone to stare at during dinner. But wait. This is hot gay erotic romance. So when boy sees hot football star, boy lusts for football star, and holy shit, the football star has game of his own. The sex was raw and brazen, the dialog refreshingly natural and the ending pleasantly simple and satisfying."

Buy link:

Blurb:

Gil Davis had hated high school. Ever the geek, he had no intentions of attending his 10th year class reunion. The last thing he wants is to relive the taunting and teasing he received during his teenage years. However there is one thing he missed from high school: the star Varsity football player. The one he had a crush on since the first day he laid his eyes on him. But the last thing he expects is the now pro football player to come back to their home town to attend a lame high school reunion. Known as the Bad Boy of the NFL, Ripley “Rip” Cord, not only shows up, but shows up without a date and an eye for Gil.

CHAPTER ONE

Gil Davis couldn’t believe it had been ten years since he’d last walked through these doors. Where had the time gone?

When the invitation to his class reunion had come, he almost tossed it out, just as he had with the notice of his fifth year reunion.

He was not into reliving his high school years.

No way, no how.

But something on the invitation had caught his eye… this time they were holding it at the school. So instead of immediately pitching it, he had thrown the invitation on his kitchen table. Unfortunately, Katie, his best friend and roommate, found it and hounded him relentlessly until he agreed to RSVP.

And, of course, Katie insisted on being his date.

Which thrilled him to no end… Not.

Now he wasn’t so sure if he wanted to go in.

He wasn’t sure he was ready for a night of teasing from his former schoolmates.

Yet, here he stood, just inside the double doors of his old high school staring at the registration table by the gymnasium doors.

Someone grabbed his elbow. Firmly.

“You’re not chickening out are you?”

Gil just shook his head and swallowed hard. “Did you find the restroom all right?”

“Fine,” Katie said in her little no-nonsense tone. “Let’s go.”

The harder she tugged on his arm, the more he dug in his heels. He didn’t want to leave his little corner of safety yet. “Hold on.”

“No, Gil. It’s not going to get any easier. You look fine. We’ve – okay, I’ve worked really hard to get you to this point.” She smoothed the hair back from his eyes. Gil was surprised she hadn’t spat on her fingers first like a hovering mother hen.

The problem was, he was still a nerd at heart.

“Now, get your shit together and let’s go!” She gave his arm one last hard yank and dragged him over to the table.

Sucking in a breath, he steeled himself for what was to come.

The two women sitting at the table wore big predatory smiles.

“Gilbert? Gilbert Davis is that you?” the toothy piranha on the right asked. “I swear I didn’t recognize you without your bottle-bottom glasses and pocket protector.”

Those glasses were long gone thanks to Katie dragging him years ago to the optometrist for contacts.

Gil leaned forward to read her name tag. Bonnie (Trusk) Smith.

Bonnie Trusk. He remembered her. She had been part of the Homecoming Court their senior year.

And had accidentally run over his foot one day in the parking lot with her Eddie Bauer Explorer. Why? Her excuse had been she hadn’t seen him. Yeah, he had been the invisible man, “invisible” to all of the popular kids.

“Just Gil,” he corrected her.

She laughed and waved a hand toward him, clearly dismissing him.

The other woman, Patti Petroski-Harrison, shoved a “Hello! My name is… Gilbert Davis” sticker at him. “And your hair! It looks…” Gil expected the next word out of her mouth to be “normal.” Her face showed her internal struggle. “Nice.”

He was a geek. He knew it. He had been one ever since he could remember. And his classmates had always teased him about it.

She sized up Katie. “Are you his wife?”

Katie laughed and patted Gil’s arm. “Oh, no.”

Gil gave her a quick warning look.

Katie just gave him a sugary smile and a noisy kiss on the cheek.

“Well then,” Patti said. “When you go through the doors, Gilbert, there will be a table with place settings. Find your name and that will tell you where you’re seated.”

“Just Gil,” he corrected again, but by then both women were flashing their beaming smiles at another couple who had come up behind them.

Katie tugged him to the side to avoid being crushed by the new arrivals’ hugging and squealing. Gil didn’t recognize the newcomers. But then they had probably been a part of the “in” group.

Gil had been a full-fledged member of the “out” group, but not the “out of the closet” group.

A woman’s shrill scream shot a bolt of pain through his head.

“Did you hear Rip Cord is going to be here? Can you believe it?” the one called Patti asked, her question ending in a squeal. She looked as if she would bust a vein.

Gil stumbled back a step from the table, barely avoiding Katie’s toes.

Holy hell, he never should have agreed to come to this thing. Especially if he’d known Rip would be here.

Gil had a crush on Rip since high school. Unfortunately, Rip was definitely of the heterosexual persuasion. Being captain of the football team, he’d had every girl in school chasing after him, one way or another.

So he’d admired the well-built, handsome jock from afar. Very afar.

Hearing Rip’s name brought all those old feelings back to the surface.

All the insecurities.

Gil certainly had never expected his secret crush to come back to town for a ten-year class reunion. Rip had become way too famous for that.

Gil grabbed Katie’s arm and, with her squeaky protest, dragged her through the double doors into the gym.

“Jesus, Gil. What’s going on?” she asked as he pushed her against the wall just inside the doors.

“Did you hear that?” He struggled not to hyperventilate.

“What?” Katie peeled the backing off of Gil’s name tag and slapped it onto his chest. Not so gently either.

“Rip is going to be here.”

“Rip?” She wrinkled her nose. “What the hell is rip?”

“Not what. Who!” Gil swallowed hard and blew out a long breath. He realized then he was squeezing her upper arms. Way too hard. He relaxed his fingers.

“Okay, okay. Calm down. And let up a little more please.”

He released her and wiped his sweaty palms along his slacks. He never should have worn slacks. Slacks were nerd-wear.

Why didn’t Katie talk him out of wearing them? He should have worn torn jeans or leather pants or --

“So is Rip a band? I would’ve thought they just would’ve hired a DJ. It’s cheaper.”

“Wait. What?” Gil shook his head. “First of all, why would they need music?”

Katie pointed a finger upwards. “Hear that, nerd-o? Music. You know, it creates atmosphere and gives you something to dance to.”

“Dance?” Gil swallowed hard. He cocked his head. He did hear music. He hadn’t noticed it because he’d been too panicked about Rip being there. “Okay, just don’t ask me to dance.”

“No can do, Gilly. We will be dancing. I didn’t come along to be a wallflower.”

“Katie, you know I can’t dance,” he hissed inches from her face.

She had the nerve to laugh. As if his lack of rhythm was something to laugh about. His coordination left something to be desired. Gil considered it a handicap – maybe not one recognized by the government. But no one should make fun of the handicapped!

Gil frowned. “I didn’t see anything on the invitation about dancing.”

Katie sighed. “Gilly, don’t worry, we’ll fake it.”

“Don’t call me Gilly here. It’s bad enough people will be calling me Gilbert.”

“Okay, Gil. So if Rip isn’t a band then who or what is it?”

A low murmur throughout the room behind him caused Gil to look up. Coming through the doors…

Gil pressed a hand to the wall to steady himself. His legs had suddenly lost all strength.

Coming through the doors was…

“Him,” was all Gil could get past the lump in his throat.

From My POV

Wednesday afternoon I watched The Fountainhead on Turner Classic Movies (TCM) and it reminded me just how much I like Ayn Rand heroes. Heroes, period. I was in my teens when I first read the book (written in 1943) and to me it was mesmerizing. Talk about a hero. Howard Roark was that. It’s his story from beginning to end. Strong, with purpose, and the “I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks” attitude, he’s the kind of hero who takes what he wants, does what he wants, and with no regrets. I’m not prepared to draw any parallels between the story, Ayn Rand’s philosophy (and what’s happening with government today)—you won’t find that here. For me, it is one hell of a great romance story. If you’ve never seen it, it’s a wonderful movie.

Warner Brothers trailer on YouTube (from mearbhrach):

I read hero driven books. Is it because I grew up reading these types of stories? Probably. I’m sure a good bit of it also has to do with the time period I grew up in. Another reason is—I like them—my stories always start with the hero’s POV.

No, I don’t want heroines to be doormats. They need to be smart and have the strength and compassion to understand the hero. After all, they need to save him from himself! Sometimes she needs to give him hell then she needs to know when to back off and let him be the man. She needs to know how to be a woman—that makes her stronger than a man can ever be—and he’ll treat her like one when she becomes his.

But it will always be his story.

This brings me to my Purple P Rose’s SCREWED series. Okay, I had to go here. *laughing*-honestly, this was an accident that I’m still not sure I’m glad happened. The story has gotten my best reviews and she is at the top of my list of fav characters—which shocks the hell out of me considering my feeling about heroines. Purple even graced the cover alone in SCREWED AGAIN, not a hunk in sight. And it's my favorite cover. *gasps*

So, I’ve started another story from a heroine’s POV—I’m too old to start thinking differently, damn it—this is a train wreck waiting to happen!

Considering some of today’s bestsellers, I'm not sure I have to ask which readers like best, but feel free to give me your opinion.

I’m done. Etah wants her last great love scene…

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out.-© J. Hali Steele

Within the Shadows of Mortals (Ashen Twilight Series #2) ~ Part 1

The sequel to A Kiss of Ashen Twilight is on the way! The release date has been moved a bit from February to April but fear not, PRomantics, you'll still be getting an early sneak peek at some snippets here and there as the weeks go on. I'm really excited because this project has been near and dear to me not only as a writing one but also artistically. I hope you guys enjoy it.

For those who haven't had a chance to take a look at the Ashen Twilight series "Mortals" takes place right after the short story "Upon a Tide of Wintry Morn". Each story has it's own arc connected to the ongoing series arc so you shouldn't be too lost if you're just hopping in.

Grab a cup of your favorite drink and settle in!

More after the jump!

Paranormals everywhere

Actually, the title's the only thing I've got this morning. Usually, I'm always prepared with a blog post. Today, even after wracking the brain for material, I've got nothing. LOL

So, I'll just tell you what I've been working on and what's coming down the pike.

Today, I'll be finishing the final chapter on a modern retelling of Rumpelstiltskin then hopefully by Friday I'll finish my latest vampire novella, which I hope will be the first in a series of novellas. Monday, I plan to buckle down and get to work on my third full length novel in the paranormal genre. This one about dragons.

This should keep my busy through the middle of March.

Hopefully next week my brain will be back on track! :-) Until then, happy writing.